Rope
by LadyWallace
Summary: "I let you jump into the Cage, Sam. I trusted you to defeat Lucifer and you did. You can trust me to do this." Sam shook his head. "I know you did. And that's exactly why I can't." Coda to 14x11 "Damaged Goods"


**Because I needed to write a little angst and H/C for this week's ep. This is obviously a Coda to 14x11 "Damaged Goods" and probably an AU too (though technically not an AU until the next episode airs :P)**

 **Obviously, spoiler warning**

Rope

A Supernatural Fanfic

"I don't care what you say, Dean, it's not happening."

Dean glared at Sam over top of the metal box that was to be his prison for the rest of eternity and shook his head. "And see, this is exactly why I didn't tell you."

"No." Sam jabbed a finger at him, fury making him shake with small tremors as he took a shuddering breath. "No. Think about what you would do in my place, Dean. You've _been_ there. You would _never_ let me do this, so how do you expect me to just stand by and let you do something so stupid without doing everything I can to talk you out of it?"

"I have been there," Dean agreed, his throat tightening at the thought and he swallowed down his rage and his grief and a thousand other emotions he couldn't even put names to right now. "And I let you jump into the Cage, Sam, remember? I trusted you to defeat Lucifer and you did. Now you can trust me to do this."

Sam's eyes shone with unshed tears of frustration. "I know you did. And that's exactly why I can't."

Dean closed his eyes, shaking his head. "Sammy…"

"Just listen, Dean," Sam pleaded, took a shuddering breath as he fought to compose himself. "What I did by jumping into the Cage only postponed the inevitable. It didn't stop a damn thing. Nick and his murder spree is proof of that— _this whole damn nightmare_ is proof of that. And everything I went through…" He bit his lip and looked away, shaking his head. "Dean, I _never_ want you to have to go through that."

"It's not your choice, Sam," Dean said simply. "And it's not the Cage."

"You're trapping yourself in a box with Michael!" Sam shouted, slamming a fist down on the offending object still between them. "You want to throw yourself in the sea—do you even hear yourself? This is insane!"

"Yeah, it is," Dean snapped. "But it's the only way. And I'm scared, Sam, scared as hell, but I gotta do this. For you, for our family, for the whole damn world. Because, trust me, it's better than the alternative."

"At least wait a little bit, Dean," Sam pleaded. "Let us go home, talk about it. Wait until Cas and Jack get back from their hunt. Please."

Dean closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. "Fine. Let's get it packed up then."

He turned and strode out the door of the workshop, not looking back at Sam, even when he heard his brother's shuddering breath behind him.

Later when they were back at the bunker, Dean stood in the garage in the middle of the night, looking at the box strapped under a tarp in the bed of their mom's truck. Dean felt fear welling inside of him at the thought of being locked in there, thrown into the sea. He didn't know what would happen then. He wondered if he would die and Michael would simply take over his body, or if he would stay conscious, the archangel's powers keeping him alive as they lay trapped for all eternity together. Neither thought was appealing.

Michael seemed to sense his discomfort and pounded with renewed anger. Dean clutched his head and mentally reinforced the walls in his mind. Michael's presence was like a noose around his neck, forever tightening until, inevitably, Dean would choke to death on it.

"Yeah, yeah, I hear you, you bastard," he growled. "But you sure as hell ain't getting out."

He walked back into the bunker. It was quiet, all of the hunters out looking for the monsters Michael had turned. Cas and Jack weren't back yet either, though Dean knew Sam had called them. It was better this way though. Dean didn't need Cas' reprimands, and Jack…Dean couldn't stand to look the kid in the face and see the inevitable pain and worse, betrayal, there. Jack was still so naïve, he thought they were strong, infallible. The fact that they had found a way to bring the nephillim back from the dead only strengthened that sentiment. He would see Dean's action as giving up and Dean knew that would hurt the kid more than if he had simply been killed by Michael. No, Dean was glad they weren't here. It would make it easier.

He went to. His room to grab his jacket, and gently set his keys to the Impala and his Colt 1911 on his side table. He wasn't going to write a note this time. He couldn't say anything that Sam didn't already know. He took a deep breath looked around the room, his home, one last time and then softly closed the door behind him.

He passed Sam's room and saw the door was ajar. He stopped automatically and hesitated before he slowly reached out to push the door open further.

Sam was sprawled on his bed surrounded by books but asleep, probably from sheer exhaustion. Dean swallowed hard, and watched the rise and fall of his brother's chest for a few long seconds before he forced himself away.

"Sorry, Sammy," he whispered and left.

* * *

 _He met the other hunter_ in the next town over. Frank was someone he'd hunted with on several occasions and he knew he could trust him. At least enough for this.

"Dean," the other man greeted, shaking his hand.

"Hey," Dean said. "You get everything ready?"

Frank nodded and glanced behind Dean at the box in the back of the pickup. "Yeah, it's set. Still think this is a crazy plan."

Dean nodded stiffly. "Yeah, well, it's the only one on the table."

Frank shrugged, shaking his head. "You are one crazy son of a gun, boy."

Dean snorted. Yeah. Even for him, this was stupid.

"You ready?" Frank asked him.

Dean took a deep breath and ran a hand over his head. "Yeah. Yeah, um, just let me—" He was cut off as his phone rang. Dean cursed, and almost didn't answer it, but when he looked at the screen he saw it was Sam. He closed his eyes. "Frank, um, just give me a minute."

"Sure thing." Frank went off to start unstrapping the box as Dean answered the phone, taking a deep breath before he spoke. "Sam."

"Dean, where the hell are you?" Sam snapped and Dean could hear other voices in the background. Cas and Jack must have gotten back.

"Sammy, don't do this," he nearly pleaded.

"No, _you_ don't do this!" Sam snarled. "Dean. Do. Not. Do you hear me?"

"Sammy, please," Dean said calmly, running a hand over his face. "Don't be angry. Just…just say goodbye."

"Don't you dare," Sam's voice shook. "Don't you dare do this. We'll find another way. We always do!"

"And how many times has that worked out for the better?" Dean asked him. "Look, Sam, this is it. I'm sorry, but I'm doing this, and you're not going to stop me. I'm just trying to do what's right, fix my mistake. Please don't try to stop me."

"Dean—"

"Goodbye, Sammy," Dean ended the call and turned his phone off, hoping Sam wouldn't be able to track the GPS. He turned to Frank and nodded. "Okay. Let's do it."

They loaded the box into Frank's van and Dean got in the back with the other hunter, opening the metal container.

"Once I'm in you lock it tight, you hear?" Dean told him.

Frank nodded. "Yeah, I hear."

Dean hesitated a second and Frank reached into his pocket. "Oh, I thought you might need this. Make it easier."

He tossed Dean a bottle and Dean saw it was heavy duty sleeping pills. He bit his lip but nodded, popping the cap and dry swallowing a couple of them. "Thanks."

There was no point in hesitating another second. He took a deep breath and climbed into the box. Frank looked down at him with a nod, and Dean gave him a shaky thumb's up.

The lid closed with an ominous screech, and Dean heard Frank secure the locks in place. Darkness enveloped him now and Dean fought to steady his breathing as he heard Frank close the back of the van and then the vehicle started up, heading toward their destination.

Dean tried to stay calm, but the darkness, the closeness, was causing him to panic already. He closed his eyes, but when he did all he could feel was Michael's furious pounding in his skull.

"You won't get out now," Dean told him. "You won't ever leave this box."

Michael's scream of fury ripped through him and Dean clenched his hands into fists to fight the archangel back down, deeper into his mind as he concentrated on keeping his breathing steady. He could feel the sleeping pills starting to take effect and he let them. Maybe, if he was really lucky, this would be the last thing he ever remembered.

* * *

 _Dean stood in front of the cooler_ in his mind, watching the door concave as Michael slammed against the other side of it.

"You think this will stop me?" Michael snarled at him, buffeting the door. "You should know better than that."

"I know you can't get out of here," Dean said firmly. "And that's all that matters."

"You're trapped in here too," Michael told him, stopping the banging for a merciful second. "Trapped in here with me. And when I get out of here, and I will, I'm going to make you regret every second you forced me to spend in here. I am going to tear you apart over and over again in the most exquisite agony imaginable."

"Bring it on," Dean snarled. "If you think that scares me, then go ahead."

"Oh, I know everything that scares you most," Michael said coldly. "I've seen all your memories from Hell. What Alastair did to you on the rack, and, even worse, what you did to the other souls. How would you like to experience every little cut and break and tear that you inflicted on the ones _you_ tortured? Because that's what I'm going to do to you when I get out. And I'm going to enjoy every second of it."

Dean raised his chin. Terror washed through him but also a dose of anticipation. "I think you underestimate my ability to keep you in there."

"I don't think I underestimate anything," Michael said. "To tell you the truth, I don't think either of us are going to be in here that long."

"Well, that's where you're wrong," Dean said. "You're trapped here with me, and you're just gonna have to deal with it."

* * *

 _Dean first became aware_ of muffled voices. He groggily shifted, opened his eyes but he couldn't see anything. It was dark, close. He grunted, weakly lashing out a hand and hitting metal. Then he remembered just where he was and only barely reeled his panic in before he did himself harm. This was too reminiscent of waking up after Hell. Dean fumbled in his clothes, but there wasn't a lighter. Last time Sam had left him a lighter right in his hand. This time he had nothing.

The voices got louder, more insistent and then something slammed into the box, making Dean jump. The whole box with him in it was lifted and Dean closed his eyes, clenching his fists. This was it. He was going to be thrown into the water now. Frank must have already passed him off to the men who were supposed to get him loaded onto a ship.

But the box was set down again, and more pounding began. Dean cringed at the sound, but the lid of the box was suddenly thrown open and piercing light nailed Dean's eyes. He cringed and shrunk away. His drugged mind was not making sense of this.

"Dean!"

The familiar voice brought him back to himself, cutting through the heavy drugs he'd taken, and a hand reached down to grasp his arm. Dean looked up blearily and saw his brother's face through the haze, desperate, relieved. Sam hauled on him, and got his arms under Dean's shoulders, pulling him up into a sitting position. Sam's grip was like a lifeline, a rope thrown at the last minute to save him. But one Dean couldn't accept.

"No, Sam you can't…" he slurred, pushing at his brother's arms.

"Yeah, I can," Sam said firmly, gripping his wrists so Dean would stop trying to push him away. "I'm not letting you do this, Dean."

"Michael…"

"We'll deal with Michael another way." Dean glanced over to see Cas standing beside Sam's shoulder and soon the angel was helping his brother haul Dean from the box. "But this…this is not the way."

Dean was finally free of his prison but his legs gave out and he collapsed against Sam's chest. His brother didn't move him, simply sat down and held him tight, arms wrapped securely around him. Dean's lifeline, saving him despite his own protests, knowing him more than he knew himself.

"Sam…" Dean tried.

"Don't," Sam murmured against his neck. "Don't."

Dean felt the tears splash onto his shoulder and he finally reached up and clutched Sam back with a deep sigh that indicated his surrender. More arms wrapped around them, Cas and Jack adding their lifelines to Sam's, forming their own prison around Dean, but this one to protect him from himself.

"We need you," Jack said softly against Dean's shoulder. "I need you."

"I'm not strong enough," Dean said. "I can't hold Michael much longer."

"Yes, you are; you can," Cas insisted, hand clasping his shoulder tighter. "You've held him this long already, you can do it until we can find another way."

"And you're not alone," Sam said simply, finally pulling back just a bit so he could look Dean in the face and extricated one of his hands to clutch the back of Deans' neck insistantly. "We're here too, and we're not gonna let you fall. Michael can't beat all of us. Not if we stick together. That's the mistake we have always made in the past—going off and doing things alone to protect each other when we know we're stronger together."

The pounding in Dean's head seemed to lessen as his family clutched him tightly, the only thing holding him up right now. His face crumpled along with his body, but he still didn't fall. They held onto him as he shook and still didn't let go when he had found a little of his composure again.

"Okay," he said. "Okay. Then let's find another way."


End file.
